


To the Opposite of Loneliness

by sweetiejelly



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org">cottoncandy_bingo</a> for the prompt "lonely/alone." Blaine at ages eight, eighteen, and twenty-eight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Opposite of Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted to [LJ](http://sweetiejelly.livejournal.com/178674.html).

**Eight**  
Cooper’s putting on a show for dad’s clients again. They call him precocious (not obnoxious). I love Cooper but I love when the adults pay attention to me, too. And they never do when Cooper’s around. 

“Blaine!” Coop yells for me and my heart shoots full of hope. Maybe this time I get to play the sidekick. “Fetch me the fedora, will you? This next part won’t work right without it.” His eyes sparkle, clueless, and I pivot, walking up the stairs into the darkness.

 

 **Eighteen**  
It’s one thing to be ignored. I’ve been steadily building up immunity to that. Had to. But it’s quite another to be declined. Sure, Kurt’s said no before. But he’s always been sweet about it. He’s never made me feel unwanted or unloved. That was before New York, before vogue.com, before he outgrew me, I guess. Now I’m alone at the top of the world (of McKinley), a class president without his king. Suddenly I miss Dalton. I miss the Warblers. I miss that time when Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off of me. I miss… Kurt.

 

 **Twenty-eight**  
The house is quiet. Almost. There is a Christmas song from downstairs, floating up soft. Outside, the streets of Westerville are piled high with snow. It’s nice to catch a moment alone to myself. The holidays are always crazy. This year it will be crazier. Coop’s bringing his twins, and Kurt’s bringing Burt and Carole and Finn. We want everyone together to make our announcement – me and Kurt. I still can’t believe he proposed. Yesterday. In the middle of Central Park, down on his knees with a replica of the promise ring I gave him all those years ago in high school. 

_“This time I promise to you to always pick up your calls, to always love you, to kiss any, everywhere” – he got up to kiss me – “and to always love you. Wait! Did I say that already? I’m nervous.”_

_I cut him off with a yes and a kiss. Kurt and I – we’ve come so far. “I will wear your ring proudly.”_

_That’s when he surprised me with another box. “This one’s expensive. And can withstand rain and snowstorms and –“_

_“Come what may?”_

_“Exactly.”_

“Hey,” Coop knocks on our old room and walks in with his arms outstretched. “How are you doing, little brother?” He squeezes hard and I’m hit with the scent of his cologne. It’s strong. Everything about Coops is. Domineering. Then he lets go, holds me at arm’s length to look at me (really look). Whatever he sees there makes him nod and smile. “New York really, really suits you. I’m glad.” He mock-ruffles my hair and makes me feel eight years old again, except better, loved too.

“I missed you, too, Coop. Cut that out! Where are - ?” As if on cue, my niece and nephew yell their way up the stairs. “Uncle Blaine!” It’s chaos from there, the moment of reprieve gone. But I wouldn’t want it any other way. There front door’s opening and I hear a booming greeting from Burt and Carole’s laughter. I hear Finn tripping over something and then Kurt’s clear voice. I hurry down the stairs with Coop and the kids in tow. I hurry onward to the opposite of loneliness, towards Kurt.


End file.
